Disguises
by Vyre
Summary: It's more clear cut than you think. It's good versus evil no matter how attractively the evil disguises itself." —Companions of the Night, Vivian Vande Velde 1st draft will edit& update when ive the time!:) a story inspired by companions of the night but not based on its universe


_It's more clear cut than you think. It's__good versus evil no matter__how attractively the __evil disguises itself_._" —Companions of the Night,__Vivian Vande Velde_

Ashley woke up with a gasp. She had dreamt of her father again—the tenth of a second that the executioner's axe froze in mid air and then the swift ineluctable descent that brought the blade about midway into her father's neck. She would always wake up at this point, drenched in sweat and as frightened as she had been that terrible day eight years ago.

At least she was spared from revisiting the scene where her father would attempt to crawl towards her, blood gushing from his gaping neck wound, before finally collapsing at her feet.

She opened the wooden window wide to let the cool night air in. A gush of chilly mid autumn wind cleared her head, and calmed her nerves somewhat.

It was still dark outside, although the moon was full and sky clear. The birds had not started singing yet, so Ashley estimated it had to be at least two hours before dawn. In other words, there was perhaps only an hour at most before she would have to be up and about.

Ashley decided against returning to bed and risking nightmares that had been plaguing her sleep ever since she had ran to the execution square to see her father one last time.

A quick wash up with the chilly water she had saved in a basin for just this purpose cleared the last of her trepidation.

Both her parents were dead by the time she was seven. Nevertheless, Ashley was determined to survive. She knew letting herself dwell on fear and depression would only set her in a downward spiral from which it would be difficult to break away

After Rosemary, with whom she had shared a room, passed away after stepping on a rusty nail, there was even more work for Ashley.

Perhaps, Ashley thought hopefully, perhaps soon she would escape from the dreary life of a scullery maid, escape from this place where the fellow maids ostracised her and where the young master seemed always on heat.

She tucked her hair neatly beneath her cap. Giving the young master any reason to find fault with her, any reason at all to call her into a room alone with him would be disastrous... After Rosemary died, his roving eyes had unfortunately turned on her.

Ashley was not pretty, but she had just turned fifteen, and looked sweet, and that was enough to attract the young man's attention.

The water tank was almost empty, Ashley realised with a sigh. That meant perhaps five or more trips to the town well in the chilly mid autumn night. She picked up the water barrels, and headed across the woods.

One of the perks of waking up earlier than everyone else was that there was no one in the queue to the well. In fact, Ashley did not meet anyone as she walked the 15 minutes journey to the well within the woods. She was almost happy as she lugged the heavy water barrel back towards the mansion, gazing upwards every so now and then to admire the moon and the stars that were especially that night.

That was when she tripped on what she thought at first to be a tree root, and fell in a puddle of icy water from the overturned water barrel.

Ashley turned to glower at the culpable root.

"You there, missus," Ashley turned up her nose and wagged her finger at the tree root just like how the estate steward would when he chided the maids, "you've behaved very badly today!"

She picked up the barrel to return to the well, when she thought she heard a cough.

That was when she paused and took a closer look at what had tripped her, and saw that it moved slightly.

It was a leg, Ashley realised with a startle, that was attached—she discovered as she bent down to examine the body more closely—to a young man who was sprawled on the ground, and hidden from view by low branches. His clothes were tattered and bloody and he was barely conscious.

Could he have been someone returning from the tavern, but passed out from too much drink? That would not explain the blood. Unless he had gotten into a fight with someone? But looking at how badly hurt he was, Ashley estimated that if he had been in a fight his opponent must have been after his life. That was, of course, not a good possibility, but at least it was better than the only other explanation Ashley could think of: that he had been a soldier, who had deserted the army just like her father had done 8 years ago.

She knew that this was someone's lover, father or son who had done no wrong except to be so scared, or so disillusioned, that he would rather risk a highly dishonourable death by the executor.

Helping a soldier escape, Ashley knew, or merely shielding them, carried an equally heavy penalty. She had seen mothers lynched and paraded naked through the town, simply for hiding their sons who had ran away from the front line. Turning them in, on the other hand, carried a substantial reward.

But as Ashley knelt down beside the young man, placed her fingers in his hair and realised just how young he looked—perhaps at most a few years older than she was—, she knew that she could bare neither to turn him in nor to leave him here to die from the cold.

Placing a hand on his cheek to try to rouse him, Ashley almost gasped at how cold he was. He was almost the temperature of icy well water that numbed Ashley's finger when she accidentally dipped a hand in. If not for the gentle rising and falling of his chest, Ashley would not have believed that he was still alive.

_He must have passed out early last night, _Ashley thought, _and_ _had laid here for a certain death ever since_.

Hurriedly, she took off her shawl and wrapped it around his body. As she tried to hoist his upper body up slightly to bring the shawl around, the young man's eyelids fluttered open.

The silvery grey moonlight could not hide how deep a blue his eyes were. Ashley thought she had never seen anyone whose eyes had such a jewel-like tone—she could have mistaken them for the sapphires that the lady of the house loved to wear.

Momentarily distracted, Ashley paused, until the young man's groan jolted her out of her reverie.

Embarrassed at how she would let herself be affected by pretty eyes and good looks, Ashley glanced away and, instead of comforting him, said curtly, "you almost scared me to death."

"I'm sorry," the young man replied.

Ashley thought that for someone who was almost freezing to death from the cold, he sounded genuinely apologetic.

That made her feel even worse about being distracted by his looks _and then _being terse withhim.

"Don't be scared," Ashley said. But how could he not be? If Ashley were in his place, she would have been terrified. The young man, however, looked surprisingly calm and unaffected. More likely, Ashley thought, it was because his injuries have left him dazed and he had temporarily forgotten what a dangerous situation he was in.

"I won't turn you in. I'll help you."

Ashley told herself that she had decided to help him all along and it had nothing to do with how earnestly those sapphires searched her face.

For a fleeting moment an expression she could not decipher flicked across the young man's eyes. But it was soon gone, replaced by anxiety and suspicion. He must have finally remembered the events that have brought him here, and realised that his fate was in Ashley's hands.

"Don't be scared," Ashley tried to comfort him. She wanted to tell him how her father was just like him 8 years ago, and how she had neither forgotten nor forgiven the man who had turned her father in, but somehow those words died on her tongue. Perhaps it was because she did not trust this stranger enough

"My name's Daniel." The young man finally said. His voice and lips trembled from the cold. "It was therrible...they don't give us enough food...the enemy are ruthless oh gosh I...I...I..."

"Shh..." Ashley soothed him and ran her fingers through his hair. "It's ok, I understand. I'm Ashley. Can you walk?"

"Yes i think I can," The young man said as he attempted to stand up. He looked terribly wobbly, and had to lean against the tree for support. He smiled at her, no doubt trying to look brave,

Ashley thought he looked awfully weak.

"You just need blankets and some food and water." Ashley said. "And rest and then you'll be strong enough to continue on your way."

The young man nodded. Once again, he said hesitantly, or perhaps cautiously as though still unsure of her true intentions "Thank you."

Perhaps because he was worried she would change her mind, he added hurriedly, " I wont stay for long; I will leave tomorrow night under the cover of darkness."

Ashley did not reply. She doubted a single day's rest was enough for him, but staying too long risked discovery, which would endanger both of them.

"lean on me," she chose this reply. "It's a long walk back to my room."

He seemed hesitant, so Ashley grabbed hold of his arm and said, "come on."

They half staggered back towards the mansion.

Along the way, Ashley explained to him, "I work as a scullery maid for a man Raoul. I have a room on the second floor. Usually no one will walk in there during the day, so you should be safe."

But Ashley knew _occasionally_ someone would walk in. Usually it would be another maid looking for her. But once Ashley caught the young master Raoul inside, sniffing at her clothes. The sight made her sick for almost a week.

So she prayed very hard that today, there would be no one looking for her in her room

"If someone does come in," Daniel replied, with a seriousness that Ashley rarely saw in boys his age, "I'll say that I climbed in through the window, and that you weren't involved in any way. I won't endanger you more than i already am. "

He was in much greater danger than she, yet there he was, trying to reassure her instead. Ashley almost sighed. Someone like him should not have to die on a battlefield far away from home, and much less receive the fate of public humiliation and execution.

She walked into the house first to make sure no one else was away, then beckoned for Daniel to follow. The 100m walk from the front door to the stairs—which could not have taken more than a few seconds, seemed like a lifetime. And then there was the almost excrutiating climb up the stairs, with every creak grated on her nerves.

Finally they made it to her room. Ashley's nerves were still high sprung, every little noise from made her jump—real or imagined.

"Careful, your head" She whispered. The servants' rooms were peculiarly designed to have low doors, and, even bet from the pain, Daniel was tall.

She closed the door carefully behind her, and indicated for Daniel to lie on her sleeping pallet. Raoul did not buy real beds for servants. He was after all only a small time land owner, and a stingy one at that.

Again, Daniel bulked.

"Go on," Ashley prompted him, "It's ok."

She took out her kerosene lamp and lit it. Its warm yellowish glow allowed Ashley to examine the full extent of Daniel's injury.

Fresh and dried blood the shade of wine left his shirt with more patches of red than white. If she had not been so accustomed to seeing blood-once at the execution of her father and another time at that of her mother—Ashley might have gagged. His black breeches made it difficult for Ashley to gauge how just badly injured his legs were, something for which Ashley was grateful.

For the amount of blood that he must have lost, Ashley was surprised that he was still alive, let alone capable of talking and walking—albeit with assistance.

Her expression must have belied the horror she was feeling, because Daniel said, "it's not as bad as it looks."

He even managed a weak smile.

The sight of his young battered body, the thought of probably fate, and the his unconvincing yet nevertheless beguiling attempt to appear brave, blurred Ashley's eyes. She turned about hastily, and said, " I'll get something to clean up your wound."

She hurried down the stairs to get the pail that she had left by the door—it was still a quarter filled with water. As she passed by a small antechamber where the maids pressed shirt after drying, she grabbed one of Raoul's shirts. She doubted he would miss it, as he had at least 30 shirts or so. Taking a towel and wrapping the stolen shirt within it, she hurried back up the stairs—where she almost bumped into Amber, another scullery maid.

Ashley let out a startled shriek that she only managed to half suppress.

"Oh shut up Ashley, you almost scared me to death!" Amber snapped, as though Ashley had done it on purpose. Her eyes slipped onto the towel in Ashley's left hand and the pail in her right one.

"What are you up to, sneaking about at such an unearthly hour with a pail of water and—whats that in the towel?" Amber asked, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion and her tone rank of disdain.

"It's ju-just another piece of towel" Ashley stammered.

Amber rolled her eyes, making sure that it was painfully obvious that she did not believe Ashley one bit.

Amber replied, "Are you sure it's not an ingredient for a spell? Like the one your mother used on old Farmer Ben's wife?"

Amber seemed smug that she managed once again to remind Ashley of her place—a daughter of an executed witch and runaway soldier: a low-life even amongst low-lifes.

"I'll tell you what it is," Ashely growled, her anger making her bold, "It's a piece of cloth soiled with my menstrual blood. I was about to do some cleaning." Ashley shook the pail in her hand to emphasize her point, "You want to see it? You want me to show you?"

Amber gave a look of absolute disgust, and turned away in a huff.

"And my mother was not a witch. She was slandered." Ashley hissed at Amber's departing back. "by nasty heartless people just like yourself. And if you ever dare to say something bad about my mother again i'll put my soiled cotton under your pillow!"

Amber grunted and walked off.

Ashley made sure that Amber had entered the kitchen before slipping back into the room.

Daniel had his eyes closed, no doubt beyond exhaustion. But as Ashley entered he sat up, although he had to prop himself up with his arms, and his breathing was strained

"No, no, its ok, lie back." Ashley soothed him.

Her angered vaporised at the sight of him. She felt a strange sense of camaraderie towards this young stranger, like the bond deathrow inmates may form during their brief journey together on the carriage bound for the executioner's block.

Ashley squeezed her eyes shut and tried to clear her mind of images of death and execution. She was already 15; it was time to outgrow her childhood scars.

But it could be so difficult.

She pulled his shirt up until it lay scrunched at the level of his chest. If not for his heavy injuries, she might have blushed.

There was an obvious stab wound, just below his heart.

"You were lucky" she whispered. Any higher the blade would have nicked his heart and taken his life.

"Always have been." He replied. Ashley's brows creased with worry as she thought he sounded weaker than before, although he still managed a smile for her.

Fortunately, the bleeding had been somewhat staunched, but the gash still looked nasty and angry.

Ashley dipped the towel into the pail. The water was icy, which could help with the pain.

Gently, she dapped the towel over this wound. The young man tensed up, but he did not make a sound, although Ashley could tell that he was biting his lips to hold a groan back.

Ashley found herself admiring the courage and kindness he showed despite his danger wrought circumstances. If only she could be more like him, Ashley wished. If only she could repress her bursts of anger every time her parents were mentioned.

Ashley knew that her own personality was at least partly to be blamed for her ostracised status in the household. If she had been nicer and kinder, maybe she would have had more friends.

She tried to be as thorough and gentle as she could with the cleaning, yet not be slow and protract his pain. When she was done she went to her closet, where she had kept a roll of cloth she had bought to nurse Rosemary with.

She helped him sit up, and wrapped the cloth about his abdomen.

He removed the tattered and bloodied shirt as Ashley handed him Raoul's. Ashley tried to keep herself from looking at the young man's arms, which were so different from her own.

"Give it to me, i'll help you wash it." Ashley said.

"Wash?" the young man echoed.

"It's good quality cloth." Ashley replied. The shirt was made of white silk. It was unpretentious, but undoubtedly pricey.

"You brought this with you to the battlefield?" Ashley asked. If he could afford to wear such fine material, Ashley thought, he could have very well have bought himself out of the army. That was how Raoul avoided conscription.

"No," He replied sheepishly, "I stole it off a family i passed by, i needed civilian clothes."

"And those too?" Ashley asked, pointing to two onyx rings he was wearing on his right index and middle finger. Some of the servants wore jewellery, but theirs tended to be roughly wrought pieces of metal. Daniels' rings were finely crafted, with the jewels sparkling even in the poor lighting.

"No, these I got from someone... on the battlefield." He replied ruthfully.

So he had killed before, Ashley surprised. But that is to be expected from a soldier; it was his job. Ashley appreciated how he had avoided saying "kill" or "death" in front of her, unlike the village boys who liked to boast about every single life they had taken, from the smallest critters to, occasionally, one another. One of his rings had the letter R on it, a signet ring. Ashley was illiterate, but she could recognise alphabets, especially Raoul's initials _R.H._

"someone attacked you after you escaped?" Ashley asked with a frown. Of course that was what happened, there was no way he could have made it this far from the front lines with a gaping wound in his abdomen.

"Someone recognised me." He said with a sigh and buried his face in his hands. "An old friend. Or someone i thought was a friend. He knew I ran off...i guess our friendship was worth less than the value of the reward."

"I'm sorry." Ashley breathed, more sincerely than she ever had uttered those words. She knew the bitter-sour feel of betrayal. It was after all her own neighbour who had accused her mother of witchcraft, desperate to acquire the house Ashley's father left them.

Tentatively, she gave him a hug to comfort him. Surprisingly, she found that she was reluctant to let go. And when she did, she half entertained the thought of asking him to let her run away with him, away from this place that she had grown to detest.

But Ashley doubted he would be interested. She pictured herself: plain and way too skinny, with periodic bursts of anger she could not control. He, on the other hand, was kind, brave, and good looking enough, Ashley suspected, to have almost any girl he wants. There was no way someone like him would be interested in someone like her.

"I must thank you again, for saving my life." Daniel said, again with an earnestness that could have melt Ashley's heart. "Without you...i'll probably be dead by now."

Ashley didn't know what to reply. She wanted to say, "don't thank me, take me with you.." But of course she would never be bold enough to.

For a while Ashley thought sardonically _if he truly was as grateful as he said he is, he will agree._ But it was simply wrong, Ashley thought, to take advantage of someone's niceness like that.

So instead, she replied, "Thank me if you leave safely tomorrow night."

Before she could say more, she heard the neighbouring door creak open.

Holding a finger to her lips to indicate that he should not make any sound from now onwards, Ashley pointed to the closet, indicating that was where he could hide if he heard anyone approaching. He nodded.

"I will be back at 2 o'clock to bring you food." Ashley whispered. The maids only have one break per day—between 2 and 2.30 in the afternoon

Daniel shook his head. _too dangerous._ He mouthed.

"Don't let them suspect you let me in," Daniel whispered.

That almost made Ashley wish she had asked him to let her follow him.

She placed the water pail against the door so that Daniel would have some warning if someone were to come in. There were five pails in the household, Ashley doubted this particular one would be missed.

"Rest," she mouthed, and closed the door behind her.


End file.
